"What?"
"They want the money in the bank, Frank. All of it. We just got that word. And they know to a penny how much Jenkins had in his bank."
"How the hell could they know that?"
"One of the tellers was involved. Young man name of Dean Hill. His girlfriend came to the office and told me about him. She's over there now. Wants to talk to you."
"All right. Where is this Dean Hill now?"
"He rode out with the survivors of the holdup."
"I'll make you a wager. If he isn't dead by now, he will be very shortly."
"No bet. The young man has served his purpose. No point in keepin' him around. Those outlaws damn sure aren't goin' to share with him."
"Let's go see this girlfriend. Not that she'll be able to tell us much. How long do the outlaws think they'll be able to keep the pass closed?"
"Forever, Frank. She told me they plan on warning anyone wanting in that there is a smallpox epidemic in town. No one is allowed into town."
"Pretty good plan Vic and Ned worked out."
"Yeah. What are you goin' to do, Frank?"
"See this girl. Then I'm going to open the road ... or die trying."
--------
*Twenty-two*
Frank talked briefly with the frightened young lady in his office. She told him basically what she had told Jerry. She ended with, "What do you suppose will happen to Dean?"
Frank didn't want to tell her that her beau was probably already dead. "He'll have to stand trial, miss. I don't know what the judge will do." _If he is alive he'll spend the rest of his life in prison_, he thought.
After the young woman had left, Frank told Jerry, "Have a wagon hitched up. Transfer one of those Gatling guns over to it, and fill all the magazines."
Jerry looked at him.
"And some dynamite and caps, too," Frank added.
"Sounds like you're about to declare war, Frank."
"I am, Jer. For a fact."
Jerry left the office at a run, and Frank began putting together some gear. He was filling the empty loops in his ammo belt with .44-.40 cartridges when Mayor Jenkins came in.
"Coffee over there on the stove, Mayor," Frank told him. "It's fresh and hot. Help yourself."
"Good." Jenkins reached into his suit coat and pulled out some papers. "While I'm doing that, you sign these where I've put an X."
"What am I signing?"
"Some very important papers." He pushed a pen and inkwell across the desk. "Sign them and date them."
Frank scrawled his name, looked at the calendar and printed in the date, then pushed the papers away.
"I just spoke with Dr. Bracken, Frank. There is no change in Mrs. Browning's condition."
"I know."
"Doc Bracken is worried about Conrad. The boy is very shaky."
"He's learning that death is a part of living, Mayor. The kid is tougher than most people think. He'll be all right."
"I know you're about to do something. You want me to put a posse together, Frank?"
"No. This is something I have to handle myself. There has been enough loss of innocent life this day."
"One man against two large gangs?"
"If I decide I need help, Mayor, I'll send word back. What I would like for you to do is officially deputize some of those men I had guarding the prisoners earlier. They can take care of the town. I want Jerry with me at the blockade."
"I'll do that immediately."
"Thank you."
"Be careful, Frank."
"I won't promise that, Mayor."
Jenkins smiled his understanding, nodded his head, and picked up the papers. "I'll send over your copies in a few days. I want to have these recorded."
Frank finished filling the loops in both gunbelts, .44-.40 and .45, then filled up a large canteen with fresh water. Jerry walked in about the time he was finished.
"Got the Gatlin' gun loaded, Frank. Several cases of filled-up magazines."
"Dynamite?"
"Enough to blow up a mountain. You ever handled dynamite?"
"Plenty of times. One more thing: go over to Angie's and tell her to fix us some sandwiches to take with us."
"On my way."
Frank stowed his rifle and canteen in the wagon outside the office and looked over the team: good, powerfully built horses. Doc Bracken walked up. Frank guessed the doctor was taking a much needed break from his patients.
"Mrs. Browning is drifting in and out of consciousness, Marshal. She wants to see you. You'd better come now. I don't believe she can last much longer."
Frank walked over to the doctor's office and pushed open the door leading to the tiny clinic. Conrad was sitting by his mother's bed. He looked up at Frank.
"I'll leave you alone for a few minutes, Marshal," the young man said, standing up. "Then I'll be back. I have something to say to you."
"All right, son."
"I am not your son!"
"Yes, you are," Vivian whispered.
Conrad whirled around. "What did you say, Mother?"
"Frank Morgan is your father."
"Mother! You don't know what you're saying."
"Mr. Browning knew you weren't his own son, but he raised you as if you were. Frank and I were married in Colorado right after the war. I was pregnant with you when your grandfather drove him away."
Conrad stared at Frank for a moment, then charged out of the office.
Frank sat down in the chair beside Viv's bed and took her hand. "I guess he had to know, Viv."
"It was past time."
"You're going to pull through this, Viv."
"No, I'm not, Frank, and you know it. I can read that in Dr. Bracken's eyes, and yours."
Frank didn't know what to say. He held her hand.
"Listen to me, Frank. Please. I don't know how long I'm going to stay conscious. I don't want you to see me ... die. I don't want that to be the last memory you have of me. I don't want that image to be the one you carry in your mind for the rest of your life. Do you understand that?"
"Of course I do, Viv."
"Promise me you'll take care of Conrad. Promise me you'll try to see him into manhood."
"I'll try, Viv. I'll do my best, if he'll let me. But if he won't ... what can I do?"
"Nothing. If you'll try, that's all I ask."
Vivian closed her eyes, and Frank thought for a few seconds he had lost her. Then she took several ragged breaths and once again opened her eyes.
"Did you sign the papers Jenkins brought over to you?" she asked.
"What? Oh. Yes. I signed something this morning. He said it was important."
She tried a small smile. "They were very important, Frank. Thank you. How is Jimmy?"
"He's dead, Viv. And so is the servant."
"I'm so sorry. What a mess. It was a bank robbery, wasn't it?"
"Yes. They tried to rob the bank. They didn't get away with a nickel of the bank's money."
She stared at Frank for a moment. "You're going after them, aren't you?"
"It's my job, Viv."
"Frank?"
"I'm right here."
"I never stopped loving you. I want you to know that."
"Nor did I stop loving you, Viv."
"That makes dying so much easier, Frank."